


Kidnap an Angel (and other fluff)

by posingasme



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Angels, Bunker Fluff, Castiel in the Bunker, Christmas Angst, Kevin Lives, M/M, Shy Sam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-03-14 09:23:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 10,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3405482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/posingasme/pseuds/posingasme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various and copious Sastiel scenes which may or may not be connected to one another. They will be marked as Part 1, Part 2, etc if they are a continuation. Otherwise, assume they are unrelated.</p><p>Mostly fluff 'n stuff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kidnap an Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel hears a song that requires some explanation from Sam.

When Sam entered the living area of the bunker, he stopped cold at the sight of Castiel's horrified expression. "Cas?"

Very slowly, the angel turned to face him. "Sam," he choked out hoarsely. 

Sam's hand wandered to touch at his weapon automatically. "Cas, what is it? What's wrong?"

Castiel stared at him. "This is Dean's music?"

He closed his mouth, then nodded. "Yeah, I guess. Must have left his alarm on when he went to check on Charlie. Want me to turn it off?" he offered cautiously. 

"Just...why would someone create a song like this?"

The hunter stopped to listen. Realization poured over him and he cringed. "Okay, that's awkward. Look, that's Bon Jovi, okay? I doubt he ever met any real angels."

"I hope not."

Sam listened to the chorus about kidnapping an angel and clipping off his wings. "Or...maybe he met the wrong one?"

Castiel turned his traumatized eyes toward him again. 

"I mean, Zachariah. And Metatron. Right?"

The dark head shook slowly. "He might just kill the angel rather than torture it," he said. 

"Cas, can your wings actually be clipped off?"

"Not by a Jovi, bon or otherwise. I've never heard of them, so they can't be all that powerful."

Sam could not resist a small smile. "I don't know. They've got like two hundred singles."

"I don't know what that means."

The hunter's large hand reached into the angel's hair to stroke it fondly. "It means they're plenty powerful. But don't worry. I'll keep you safe, Angel."

Castiel frowned at him as if he suspected Sam might be teasing him, then sighed and let his hunter wrap long, comforting arms around him. Humans were strange things, but he liked this one.


	2. The Angel Next Door, The Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a weird new guy who moved in across the hall. Dean's pretty sure he's a spook or a psycho. Sam's pretty sure he's out of his league.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story quickly became NOT fluff, as most of my stories do. So I am continuing it as another work under my author page. Its title is The Angel Next Door. If you want unrelated fluffy stories, stay here. If you want the rest of this story, look for it among my works.

Sam didn’t actually mind Dean’s paranoia so much as he minded the way he was ranting while wrapped only in a towel.

“I’m telling you, Sammy, he’s strange. He’s always watching everything. Everybody. I’d be flattered, except he’s a creep about it. Besides, I’m pretty sure he’s more your type. You know.”

He rolled his eyes and deliberately avoided looking at his brother. “Yeah. Can you put on some clothes, please?”

Dean looked down at himself, and nodded. “Right. Okay.”

The younger man could hear him pulling denim over skin, and sighed. “Would you leave the guy alone? I mean, you’ve never even spoken to him.”

“Part of why it’s so freaking creepy. Stares at me when I walk down the hall.”

“Probably because you’re staring at him.”

“I only stare at him because he stares first. Maybe he’s some kind of spy or something. Or a sociopath.”

Sam put his hand into his hair, as if he needed some kind of sensory stimulation other than his brother’s voice. “Yeah. Probably both.”

“You ever noticed he never blinks?”

“Everybody blinks, Dean.”   
“I don’t think he does.”

He lowered his hand to rub at his eyes now. “Leave the man alone, will you? Come on. One day I’d like to have a neighbor you didn’t annoy the hell out of with your paranoia. Look, he’s around our age. He’s obviously not married. Maybe we’d enjoy his company if you’d stop obsessing about stuff.”

“Sammy! Do not!”

“I’m going to invite him for a beer.”

Dean put himself in front of the door. At least he was fully clothed at this point. “No. No, because if you do, and he says yes, and we hate him, but he likes us-and, you know, who wouldn’t?-then it’s awkward and we might have to kill him in secret.”

Sam stared at his brother with weary eyes.

The older man slowly backed away from the door. “It could get awkward,” he reiterated with a bit of a whine.   
“You’re right. Because it isn’t awkward now. Now is fine. He lives right across the hall from us, Dean! Don’t you want to know he’d at least call the police if he heard us being murdered?”

Dean considered this argument, then shook his head. “The real question is why is he listening?”

Sam threw his hands up and shoved his brother away from the door altogether. “You’re the sociopath.” He left the apartment, feeling fairly confident that Dean was an anti-social idiot, and knocked on the door across the hall.

“Yes?” a voice called, just before a crash hit Sam’s ears.

“Um…you okay, buddy? I’m Sam from next door.”

There was a strange thud to complement the crash, and Sam was beginning to get worried when the door finally opened as far as the chain would allow, revealing one blue eye and a stripe of dark hair above it. “Yes?” the man said again.

Dean was right about the guy being weird. He took a deep breath and rushed forward before he changed his mind. “Hey, um. So my brother and I live across the hall.”

The blue eye flicked from Sam to their apartment door behind him. “Yes?”

Maybe the man didn’t speak English. He tried to remember if he had heard the guy talk yet. “So you moved in a few weeks back, but we never introduced ourselves. I’m Sam, he’s Dean. We’re going out tonight for some drinks, and we wanted to invite you to join us if you’re free.”

The eye narrowed. “Your brother is the man who stares at me while I try to do my laundry. And he often doesn’t have enough clothes on.”

Sam laughed quietly. “Yeah, well, he’s a bit of a freak, but he’s harmless. I promise.”

“Your younger brother?”

His eyes widened slightly. He could not remember the last time someone had mistaken him for the older of the two. “Uh, no. He’s about four years older…” Why was he having this conversation with a disembodied eye? “Hey, sorry I bothered you. Just…welcome to the building. If you need anything, let us know. I’ll tell my idiot brother to leave you alone.”

Finally, as he was turning away, he could hear the chain being removed and the door opening with a shuffle. He looked back over his shoulder to see the rest of the man appear. It was the first time he had seen him without the long khaki trench coat. Instead, he was in a casual blue button-down under a blue sweater and charcoal pants, and now that he could view them both, Sam had never seen anyone’s eyes look so amazing.

When he found that thought floating around in his head, he cringed and took another step toward his own apartment. The last thing he wanted was to freak out this guy a little more by staring into those gorgeous eyes immediately after having apologized for Dean’s behavior, and the last thing he needed was to have another set of beautiful eyes keeping him up at night anyway. He had just stopped aching over the last pair.

“When you say drinks, you mean a bar?”

Sam’s head went crooked for a moment. “Uh. Yeah. There’s a pub we like less than two blocks from here. We’re heading out now.”

The man nodded slowly. “I might enjoy that. I will meet you there. What’s the name?”

“It’s Salt and Burn straight down Pike. What’s your name?”

“Castiel.”

He took a breath. “Wow. Okay. What do your friends call you?” As soon as it was out of his mouth, he wondered if that had been rude.

The blue eyes narrowed, but the man did not seem to be offended. “I suppose they would call me Castiel.”

Something about that answer seemed terribly odd, but Sam was fixed on the fact that he might have seemed impolite. “Oh.”

“Or Cas. Perhaps they would call me Cas.”

Sam smiled at him awkwardly. “Okay then. Cas…tiel. It’s good to meet you. We’ll look for you tonight. Hope you join us.”

There was a nod, then the man slipped back into his apartment, though not before Sam got a glimpse of the state of affairs inside. It looked like a disaster area, with boxes and books and clothing everywhere. It was no wonder it had sounded as though he had to battle his way to the door.

Sam returned to his own apartment door and heard a quite different crash when he threw it open. “Jesus, Dean! Were you watching us through the freaking peephole?”

Dean picked himself up off the floor irritably. “I had to make sure he didn’t kill you, didn’t I?”

“You need something to do with your life. You need a job where you have to bring work home with you. You need a hobby.”

His brother scowled at him. “I have a hobby. And you’re ruining it by inviting some creep we don’t know.”

“Drinking is not a hobby, Dean. Chasing tail is not a hobby.”

Finally, Dean’s face brightened a bit. “You’re right, Sam. It’s far more serious than a hobby. It’s a calling, really.”

Twenty minutes later, they were seated at a table near the pool tables, and Dean was leaning his chair back to chat up the woman at the table behind them. Sam sighed to himself and took a pull from his bottle.

Dean cackled, then returned his attention to his brother. He grinned triumphantly, flicking a small piece of paper scrawled with numbers onto the table carelessly. Sometimes Sam wondered if the fishing was more important to Dean than the actual catch and release.

“Apartment to myself tonight?” he said hopefully.

“Don’t get excited. I’m going to wait a few days.” He watched the younger man for a few beats, then took a swallow from his beer. “It’s cool, man. We can go to one of your bars later if you want.”

Sam wanted to glower at him, but he could not help appreciating that Dean would even consider going to a gay bar with him. Knowing Dean, he would probably love the attention. Dean loved all attention, regardless of type, from all people, regardless of gender or just about any other qualification. But he knew it did make him uncomfortable to be mistaken for Sam’s boyfriend, and that inevitably happened. “I’m not interested in hooking up, Dean,” he informed him stubbornly. “And if I were, I wouldn’t need to hit a gay club for that.”

“But why wouldn’t you?” he asked, genuinely curious. “I mean, that’s got to be the easiest way.”

“I’m tired of the easy way,” he sulked, staring into his bottle. “You have the personality for it. I really don’t. I’d rather be alone than with mistakes.”

His brother made a face at that. “You think that’s all you find at bars and clubs? Mistakes? What does that make us?”

“Somebody else’s mistake,” he murmured gloomily. But his eyes were on the door, and he watched as Castiel entered the scene, his gaze darting around each table. He raised his arm, not bothering to stand. “Hey! Castiel!”

“Castiel? His name is Castiel? That’s not a real name.”

“Shut up. Cas! Over here!”

The blue eyes found them, but yet he hesitated. Even sitting, Sam tended to tower over other patrons, and he had a clear view of the man. He had put on jeans and the trench coat, but he still wore those blue layers, and Sam felt himself breathe a little shallowly.

It was always the eyes that got him. Sam loved an athletic body, which the man obviously had, and had lately preferred dark hair, just long enough to grab. His whole nervous system had reacted to Castiel’s deep, rumbling voice. But the eyes. Always the eyes. Castiel had incredible eyes, and the way he looked across the room at him with that one peaked eyebrow made him draw in a breath and hold it, as if he was waiting for the man to give him permission to let it out.

Dean smacked him on the arm across the table. “Don’t do it,” he warned in a husky voice. “Stop.”

Their neighbor was finally walking toward them, and Sam’s face was flushing warm. “Stop, what?” he hissed.

“Fucking him with your eyes.”

Sam turned to stare at him, scandalized. “I am not!”

“You’re at least at third base,” his brother shot back. “So knock it off.” He grinned up at Castiel as he arrived at their table, and pushed a chair out to him with his foot. “Hey, Cas! Join us!”

Castiel looked at the chair, then sat in it with a level of caution Sam did not think was probably warranted. “Hello.”

Sam waved his long arm to get the attention of the bartender, who sent a waitress to the table.

Their neighbor frowned briefly, then cleared his throat. “White Russian, high-shelf scotch, neat, in a tall glass,” he said quietly, “and whatever your lightest beer is, in whatever order it becomes available.” The waitress smiled and walked away without having said a word.

Dean’s eyebrows shot up. “You take your drinking seriously, Cas.”

The blue gaze fixed on him. “I have something of a high tolerance.” He glanced at Sam. “Thank you for inviting me out. I don’t know many places around here.”

The older brother nodded and cut his eyes at Sam. “Yeah. We’re generally here or at Harvelle’s off the highway. ‘Course some weekends, Sam ditches me to go to Sidetracks in the city. But this is our main hangout.”

Sam delivered a sharp kick to Dean’s shin and watched the green eyes close briefly in a flinch.

But Castiel did not seem to notice. “Sidetracks?” he murmured. He turned to face Sam without even having the decency to blink or pretend he did not know what that was.

He shrugged. “Not often. Once in a while…So where are you from anyway?” he asked quickly. He could feel himself beginning to sweat, and he knew Dean was smiling into his beer.

“Northeast,” he responded vaguely. “I moved to Illinois to teach at Lake Forest.”

Sam tried not to notice Dean snickering. “You’re a professor?” he asked breathlessly.

“I teach religious studies to undergrads. Yes.”

“That’s a good school,” Sam forced out. “And I bet they’re lucky to have you.” In his periphery, he could see Dean rolling his eyes.

“Thank you. Yes, they are.”

Something about that casual arrogance brought Sam back from his fog. He laughed to himself, letting his hair hide his face.

Castiel blinked. “I mean, yes. They are…a good school. Thank you for…” He cleared his throat again. “So what do you two do?”

He could see his big brother was softening, probably because it was becoming obvious that this man was not a serial killer or spy, just an awkward professor. “I work at a body shop and I take some hours at a junkyard when they think they can salvage something. Sammy’s a paralegal for now.”

“For now?”   
Sam could feel the blush in his cheeks again, and he was not even sure why. “I’m finishing law school at night.”

“That’s ambitious.”

He licked his lips carefully, and tried to avoid Castiel’s eyes. “I decided I didn’t want to practice. Thinking about…post-secondary.”

For the first time, a smile spread on the man’s face. “So you want to teach. You’d be a professor.”

“Yeah. Good pre-law professors are in short supply. And the more contact I have with law, the more I get disillusioned with the courtroom.”

The smile persisted, and Castiel even appeared to be relaxing, as the waitress finally returned with his beer and scotch. “Yes, I try to sufficiently jade my students so that they understand exactly how much bullshit there is out there. I’d hate for a student of mine to enter seminary or some other path before realizing it’s all a chaotic mess full of hypocrites and psychotic head cases.”

Sam snickered. “They tried to warn us about law school. They didn’t properly warn us about law.”

After this, the conversation flowed more easily. To the brothers’ surprise, Castiel pursued a conversation with Dean about the cars he worked on, showing a genuine interest in every detail. The White Russian arrived within moments of the other drinks, and the server’s eyes widened to find the other two drained already. Castiel placed an order for a second White Russian and another neat scotch, as he accepted the drink. Dean grinned and ordered another beer, then continued telling his new friend all about the ’67 Impala he was fixing up at the garage after hours. Castiel asked a dozen questions, and Sam was soon certain that Dean was having more fun talking to this professor than he had been hitting on the blond behind them. He watched the two of them for a long time, jumping in only when it would have been awkward not to, and he let his mind wander a bit while he sipped at his beer.

Castiel was down nine drinks before he showed the slightest signs of being tipsy. Dean had begun matching his pace, Sam noticed, and was a little further gone, so the younger man decided to order some hot wings so Dean was not competing with a guy who evidently had the metabolism of a hummingbird on an empty stomach.

Castiel ate only the celery, but Dean made up for it by attacking the wings. After four plates of hot wings between the three of them, Sam had long since lost count of everyone’s drinks, but his mouth burned and his mind buzzed happily. Dean was clapping Castiel on the back every few minutes, and the man in blue was moving far more fluidly and animatedly. He still seemed reserved sitting next to Dean, but he laughed more and Sam liked that.

A little after midnight, Castiel stood and approached the bar alone. Dean leaned over to Sam. “Dude, he’s not a psycho. He’s weird, but it’s a good weird. You like him?”

“Yeah, I…No, Dean, not like that. I just got out of one thing, I’m not jumping back into something else. Besides, he ain’t interested.”

“Ain’t inter-What table are you sitting at?”

Rolling his eyes made him a bit dizzy. “Dude, he hasn’t looked at me in twenty minutes. He’s said three words directly to me in the last two hours. He ain’t interested. If anything, I’d think he might be hitting on you, except I think you made your preference pretty clear when your fuck buddy from last weekend came over and you couldn’t remember her name.”

“Sheila. It was Sheila. I remember now.”

“It was Sonya, Dean. She said it twice.”

“Anyway, the guy isn’t hitting on me. He’s been hanging on every word you say, though. And you said you just got out of a thing, but you’ve been out of that particular thing for almost three months. Mourning period is over, dude. Time to jump back into the deep end.”

Sam’s face tightened. “Dean, your idea of the deep end is sleeping in the same bed twice. It’s knowing her freaking name, and possibly even sharing a meal with her. The deep end for me is a little…deeper.”

“No details,” Dean insisted.

“Bite me, Dean.”

Castiel returned to the table, but did not sit. Instead, he placed his wallet back into his coat, and slung the trench over his arm. “I think I should head back. Thank you for inviting me out. I had a good time.” He directed the statement to Dean, but Sam saw the blue eyes seek him out in a way that was almost shy. He placed a business card in the center of the table slowly. He glanced at Sam quickly, then turned back to Dean. “In case you’d like company again. Good luck with the Impala. And your night classes.”

Dean stood and smacked him on the arm. “Yeah, thanks, man. Glad to know the guy across the hall isn’t Dahmer.”

He frowned very slightly, then seemed to understand. “Ah. Yes. The feeling is mutual.” He took a breath. “Well, good night.”

“Good night…Castiel…” Sam said too slowly.

Dean burst into laughter. “Wow, dude. I don’t think I’ve seen you crush on somebody so hard since Gabriel Arch back in high school.”

“Shut up. Gabriel was a dick. This guy is nice.”

“And?”

“And shut up! I’m not…whatever. Shut up. Guy’s totally out of my league anyway. Seriously. Don’t even look at me like that. I’m not interested.” Sam was relieved when the waitress returned. “Hey. We’re ready for the check.”

“Oh. That guy with the pretty blue eyes already paid it.”

Sam nodded. “I meant our part of it.”

“Yeah. So did I.”   
Dean’s head snapped up. “You serious? We ordered like a hundred drinks!”

She shrugged. “He came to the bar and paid for everything for your table.”

“Even the stuff from before he got here?”  
 “Yup.”

Dean sat back thoughtfully as the server walked away with their empties. Then he looked at his brother and stabbed at the business card on the table with his finger. “Dude, you gotta.”

“Gotta what?” he practically shrieked.

“The guy just paid for our whole night. I like him.”

“And?” he shouted with incredulity.

“And what? Go! Text him! Or knock on his door! It isn’t like we don’t know where he lives! And he obviously wants you to!”

Sam grabbed his jacket and threaded his arms through the sleeves. “I’m not hooking up with a guy because he paid for a night out.”

“Why not? Why do you think guys pay for nights out?”

He could hear Dean tumbling out of his chair to rush after him. “You’re disgusting. He paid for your drinks too. You gonna go offer him a happy ending?”

“It ain’t me he wants, Sammy.”

The cold air hit him in the face, and he gulped it in to clear his mind. “You’re so ridiculous. First you want me to go to Sidetracks. Now you’re trying to hook me up with a guy we don’t even know, a guy you thought kept bodies in his closet until a few hours ago. What do you care if I get laid?”

“Maybe you’d be in a better mood.”

“Screw you, Dean. Just…screw you.”

“I got a few numbers I can call if you want the apartment to yourself.”

Sam growled audibly. “I do, but not for that.”

Dean was laughing behind him, but he ignored it in favor of stalking toward the apartment building, his keys in his fist. The night air was sobering him, but it did nothing to get the words “pretty blue eyes” out of his head.

***This story quickly became NOT fluff, as most of my stories do. So I am continuing it as another work under my author page. Its title is The Angel Next Door. If you want unrelated fluffy stories, stay here. If you want the rest of this story, look for it among my works.***


	3. Quilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam steals the covers.

Sam stole the covers. It was a fact of Castiel’s life since he had become human. It had not crossed his mind in all the eons he had been alive that he would one day be annoyed into consciousness by a chill on a bed with more than enough blankets, next to an enormous human radiator. He would have bet his wings, had he any, that no angel had ever had to think about such things during all of creation. Yet here he was, yanking back against one of the two strongest humans he personally knew, wondering about the structural integrity of a quilt.

When he landed on the floor, it was with such force and such frustration that he let out the least dignified sound from his throat imaginable. He closed his eyes and sighed. As he opened them again, he saw Sam’s sleepy face smiling down at him.

“Cas? You okay, man?”

He wanted to glare at him. But the way his hair did not quite lay on his head properly, and the way his soft lips were slightly parted, his eyelids slipping closed, the man was just too adorable to blame. “I’m fine, Sam.”

“Whatcha doing?”

“Sitting on the floor, Sam.”

This earned him a quiet laugh. “Would you like to join me up here?”

“I would, Sam.” He slid back into the bed next to his favorite human, and accepted the bulky arm which grabbed him around the waist and pulled him to the center of the bed as if he weighed nothing. It was almost irritating the way Sam was able to move him with such ease now. But on the other hand, it was impossible to sustain irritation toward the man, especially when he only used Castiel’s newly diminished strength as an excuse to be protective and hold his angel closer.

Sam’s lips were on the back of his neck. Castiel sighed again. “You okay, Cas?”

“Yes. I miss being an angel.”

“I miss it too. But it isn’t so bad, is it?”

“Sam, I just fell out of a bed trying to wrestle a blanket from you.”

“Maybe. But back when you were an angel, you wouldn’t have been sharing the blanket or the bed with me.”

At last, Castiel felt a twinge of pleasure run through him at the reminder. “That’s true.”

The hunter hummed at him happily, and wrapped them both in the quilt. Castiel closed his eyes, and felt the tickle of his human’s warm breath on his neck, and fell asleep with a smile on his own face.


	4. Bing Would Be Proud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What can you do with an angel when he stops being an angel?

Part of being human was job hunting. Unless you were a Winchester, where "the job" actually was hunting. Now that Castiel had no wings to get him around, no powers to assist him in combat, he was simply a guy with some skill with a knife and the will to use it. It was aggravating to feel so useless yet again. A creature with eons of experience as a soldier should not be searching classified ads.

Kevin had shown him White Christmas during the holidays. It had been a difficult plot to follow, what with all the dancing and unnecessary errors in communication among the characters, but he had been utterly struck by one particular subplot. What can you do with a general when he stops being a general? They all get a job but a general, no one hires.

The words to the song had run through his head until it had become the soundtrack to his life. He was cursed with the ability to memorize words almost instantly, a talent which apparently was less angelic and more just Castiel than he had previously thought, since it had not gone away in the Fall.

"Everyone gets a song stuck in their heads now and then," Sam had soothed him one night in bed.

"No, Sam. Angels don't."

"Well, humans do. It's one of the things no one likes but all humans can relate to."

He turned to face the opposite wall.

"Cas? Is there a reason this particular song is bothering you? What song is it?"

He sighed. "It's about a man who spent his life as a fighter. He lead men into battle, and yet now that he is too old to continue in that capacity, he feels useless."

The sound of crinkling sheets accompanied the movement of Sam's weight behind him. He felt strong arms wrap around his middle. "Oh, Cas. I'm sorry."

"Angels never get too old," he muttered sadly. "Angels of my rank continue to fight or they die. There is no retirement. We are soldiers. It is what we were made for. What can you do with an angel when he stops being an angel?"

The pain in his voice was impossible to mask, and he did not have the will to pretend anyway.

"Cas, I don't even know what this must be like for you."

He snorted. "Dean tells me to suck it up and be grateful I'm alive at all. He doesn't understand that angels need a purpose. A reason to be alive. I want a job, Sam."

"I know you do. We'll find something for you soon. It just has to be done carefully, you know? I'm creating a history for you, and I'm getting you identification and whatnot. But it takes time. And we can't have you blowing our cover. Or the bunker location. Or-"

"Or accidentally mentioning the Apocalypse or knowing Death and the King of Hell? Sam, I'm not stupid. I've been among humans for years now. And I will not do anything to put you and your brother or Kevin at risk. But I need occupation. Research and study is enough for the Prophet. I need something to occupy more than just my brain, now that I utilize one. It must be true work, and it must be important."

Sam was quiet for a moment, and Castiel had nearly believed he had fallen asleep. Then the hunter was smiling into the back of his neck the way he sometimes did. "Okay, Cas. Tomorrow, we ditch Dean and Kev, and I take you to an animal shelter."

Castiel turned onto his back. "What?"

"Look. You want to get your hands dirty again? Good. There are all sorts of helpless furry animals who need someone to watch over them."

A slow smile came over him. "Animals. What type of animals?"

"Small ones. Dogs and cats, mostly. But some rabbits and stuff too. Just don't bring any home. Dean will throw a fit."

Castiel's eyes narrowed. "Dean brought a demon home. I can't have a guinea pig? Would it help if I drew a devil's trap around it?"

Sam burst into laughter, shaking the bed in his mirth. "You know what, Cas? Dean's got no rebuttal for that. You bring home whatever you want."

Castiel stared up at the ceiling, suddenly happy. He would respect Sam's request not to bring an animal home. But he was looking forward to the promise of important work. He snuggled into his hunter's embrace, and sighed contentedly. Perhaps there was hope for an angel when he stops being an angel.


	5. WIP

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam has a secret. 
> 
> (Inspired by Sastiel-Wuvs-Hugs and Hallowedbecastiel with a Tumblr post.)

"Sam, you should sleep."

Sam's breath caught in his throat, and he hurried to close the laptop. So much for being home alone! Had...had Castiel seen anything? "Uh, hey, Cas!" His voice sounded strange, and his heart was pounding all out of rhythm.

"Are you all right, Sam? Your pulse is quite fast. Did I startle you? Has something upset you?" The clear blue eyes were giving no indication they had seen anything.

He shook his head. "You're, um...you're right. I should...go to bed." Sam grabbed his phone and smiled weakly at the angel. "Thanks for coming to-to check on me or whatever," he fumbled as he rushed from the room.

Castiel smiled behind him. He waited until the door to Sam's bedroom closed, then silently opened the laptop. He sat down to read Sam's latest chapter, feeling the warmth filling his stomach.

_He liked to think of him as his angel. Sam knew better. But in the privacy of his own head, he liked to pretend this beautiful creature was his._

Soon, when he thought Sam wouldn't be mortified, he would speak to him about this. But until then, he thrilled with every update to the work in progress. Sastiel was Sam's angel's favorite, after all.

~Posing


	6. Nobody Cares That You're Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam admits he is "wondering" about Castiel. 
> 
> Reading is Fundamental.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrote this ficlet for a gifset on Tumblr, thought I'd throw it on here too.

That moment Castiel realized he was important enough for Sam to think about...Not that Sam didn't think about others, of course he did. It was just the kind sort of person he was. But Castiel was an angel, and Sam shouldn't have to worry about him. He had mentioned that Sam seeming troubled was hardly unusual, but he had fibbed a bit when saying he sometimes ignored it. He knew too much attention or affection made the younger Winchester uncomfortable. 

But here he was saying that the thing troubling him was concern for Castiel, the angel who had broken Death's wall because he was desperate to end the war in Heaven, desperate to ensure that Sam's time in the cage with Lucifer and Michael was not for nothing. Raphael would have restarted the Apocalypse, and all Castiel could think about was what Sam had gone through to stop it the first time. 

Perhaps that was a tiny bit of the reason he had done it. A small, angry part of him, the part who had felt his angel blade push mercilessly into the back of dear Balthazar, along with so many other brothers and sisters. Perhaps that part, which ached with grief over what he had been forced to do, wanted Sam to remember what it was he was trying to stop from happening. If Sam remembered Hell, remembered Lucifer, maybe he would understand what Dean couldn't, that Raphael had to be stopped, at any cost. He could not let Sam-and therefore Dean-have suffered in vain. If Raphael won, if Castiel failed, their world would burn under the wrath of Lucifer and Michael. After time in the cage with his brother, Castiel doubted Michael would have any sympathy at all for what the duel between them did to the humans or the rest of the planet. It would only be worse, if that were possible. 

But in his frustration with Dean's determination to stop him, he had played the one card he had never wanted to play, the one he would have killed any other angel for even attempting. So how could Sam be sitting there, with nothing but awkward, endearing concern on his face, for the monster who had brought Hell back into his mind? Yes, Castiel had taken on that pain, and it had saved them both. But how could Sam pretend to trust him, to care about him?

"I'm fine, Sam," he wanted to say. "I confuse easily. I was ripped out of recovery by the Leviathan tablet, and I may have lost my only chance at healing properly. I may be confused the rest of my life. The thought of violence makes me so nauseated and so afraid that I cannot even handle strong words anymore. Eons as a soldier in the most elite military in the universe, and now my mind cannot allow for a sharp tongue, let alone a sharp knife. I'm confused, and I'm lonely, and my mind is full of shadows, and I don't remember-can't tell-which nightmares are mine and which are yours, sweet Sam, but don't worry about me. Rest, Sam. You've given me salvation, allowed me a chance at redemption which no one but you and my Father himself could have offered me."

Castiel nodded, and tried to speak these words, but he could never be sure that what came from his mouth was what he had intended at all, and anyway his mind was beginning to wander, and were those voices from his past, the cries and accusations of his victims, or were they the quiet hum of the Host, or was Dean speaking to someone...


	7. Charlie's Angels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meant as an AU for the little conspiracy glance between Sam and Castiel in Book of the Damned.

"Cas, remember, we're not telling anyone about us until after Charlie's wedding."

Castiel nodded. He remembered. Of course he remembered. He was an angel, not an idiot. He just didn't understand why. "What does it mean to...steal thunder? Thunder is a loud, explosive, resounding noise produced by the rapid expansion of air heated by a lightning discharge. Even if it could be stolen, what would one do-"

Sam pinched at the bridge of his nose. "Cas, it just means we don't want to make this weekend about us when it is meant to be about Charlie and her girlfriend. It's rude to hog the spotlight."

The angel was still unconvinced that telling their friends they were romantically joined would do such a thing, but there were times he just had to trust Sam's judgement. Secretly, he doubted Sam had a much better understanding of social norms and expectations than he did, but he would never say such a thing aloud. 

When he met Charlie, however, he was overwhelmed by the warmth she showed him, a stranger. It filled his heart in a way that yanked a smile out and plastered it on his face for the world to see. After so many years of being greeted with suspicion or cold indifference, being reviled or mistrusted by even those he had loved and considered family, Charlie's embrace was a relief. His true grace tingled in excitement. He could hear her speaking, saying something about his height, but he did not know what to do with that information. So he waited until she said something he could work with. 

He saw the bruise right away, and if Sam had not prepared him for it, he might have been startled by it. She was wounded as well. A hunter on the job the day before her wedding. Typical Winchester behavior, Castiel thought fondly. 

"So, Castiel," Charlie said brightly, "you're coming to the wedding, right?"

"I-I, uh..."

"Come on! It'll be fun! Sam isn't bringing a date, so you can sit at his table!"

Castiel looked up at Sam towering over the cheerful redhead. He wanted to tell her. He didn't even know why, but he suddenly badly wanted to tell her. She was so sweet and warm, and so quick to allow Castiel into her most sacred day. But he had promised Sam. 

"Yes, Charlie," he said finally. "I would love to come, and I'm sure Sam would not mind if I sat with him."

"Awesome," Charlie grinned. "Because you know I totally ship it."


	8. Who Needs Money?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They'll never be royals.

Castiel entered the home office Sam used for all their household paperwork and saw him draped over his desk, head resting in his palm. "Sam? Is everything all right?"

The younger man startled at the soft voice. "No," he rushed. "No, I mean, yes, it's fine. No, nothing is wrong."

This was not what Castiel considered encouraging. When he spoke again, it was with a cautious tone. "Sam, please tell me what you're worried about."

Sam pushed his hair out of his face and sighed. He stood and helped Castiel out of his coat and tie, and deftly dismissed the top two buttons on his shirt. "It's nothing, Cas. We just have to get to August. That's all. It'll all be fine then."

Castiel nodded, his stomach clenching with anxiety. "Oh. It's money."

For this, he received a short laugh. "Of course it's money. It's always money, Cas. But you know what? It could be a lot worse. We could have actual problems between us instead of just a bit of stress about cash."

But Castiel could see the dark shadows, like bruising, under Sam's eyes, and he knew things were worse than he had even thought. He cringed. "I'm so sorry, Sam," he whispered.

"Hey!" Sam took hold of Castiel's face with both hands, and leaned their foreheads against one another. He smiled as Castiel's hands rested lightly on his waist. "Don't be sorry. I'm not. We knew this wasn't going to be easy. We knew. And I'm still glad we're doing this. Okay?"

But it wasn't okay, because it wasn't both of them doing it. It was Castiel doing it to them. "Sam, this is ridiculous. I had a good job. I could probably get it back if I called Naomi and apologized. She'd be thrilled to hear me grovel a bit."

"Absolutely not. We have a few more months of making things work, and then we will be fine. You'll be full time at the university instead of just teaching the one night class. I'm so proud of you, Cas. Stop worrying about the stuff that doesn't matter. That's what I'm for. I'll figure out the details. You do what you do."

Sam's hands cupping his face was the sweetest comfort he could imagine. But his guilt over causing Sam's obvious sleep deprivation ate away at him. He frowned severely. "Sam, I...I heard you talking to Dean. On the phone last night."

His lover sighed. "Cas, that's not-"

"I wasn't listening. But I heard you tell him you aren't sure we're going to be able to pay all our bills this month."

Sam took a deep breath. "Okay. We're not. But I'll take care of it. We'll have a late payment fee here and there, and we'll have to use credit cards for groceries and gasoline. But it'll be fine. It's temporary."

"It's not what I promised you when I asked you to spend your life with me. I never should have accepted the position knowing I would have to leave my full time employment. I should have waited."

"Cas, had you waited, the opportunity might not have come along again. Universities aren't hiring the way they used to, and they're relying on adjuncts more and more because they don't have to give them tenure or offices or benefits. This was a great opportunity, and I would have been upset if you hadn't taken it."

Castiel closed his eyes. "I promised you. I said I would take care of you."

Sam's smile was full of adoration for his lover. "Castiel? We are in this together. Next time, it might be my turn to take a chance, and we'll have to figure it out then too. You've never taken a chance, Cas."

He smiled finally. "I did when I first talked to you. Biggest risk of my life. Scariest."

"Worth it?" the man teased.

"So worth it," Castiel confirmed.

"So are you." Sam pulled him into a kiss.


	9. Clowns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a Tumblr comment after the Furry episode.

Castiel combs his long fingers through Sam's hair as his deep voice carries him off. The hunter's heartbeat is normal now, but his brow is still tight. "Sam, I know it bothers you when you feel out of control. But in the end, you did exactly what you needed to do. You may not have felt as though you were in control. But you must have been. Or at least...he wasn't. My love, you bested the two most powerful and deadliest angels that ever were, not to mention every other creature you've ever encountered. I'm in awe of you, Sam Winchester."

Sam squeezes his eyes closed, and a tear slips past his defenses. "It's humiliating. I can stare down the king of Hell, but I turn into a damn child when...they're around." He snorts miserably. "If Crowley ever got smart, he'd lose the suit and put on a red nose." Just the thought seems to make him sick to his stomach. "So humiliating."

Castiel sighs at him. "Sam, I wish you could see what I see."

"An abomination?" he grumbles moodily. 

Blue eyes roll. Sam likes to bring that phrase up every once in a while. "No, Sam," he corrects with patience. "A man who faces his darkest, most disturbing fears in order to save innocent lives. A hero, Sam. My hero."

Finally, Sam looks up at him. There is a look of disbelief mixing with gratitude in his eyes. "I don't deserve you, Cas."

"You deserve far better, Sam. Sleep now, my love."

The man nods wearily, and closes his eyes again. He burrows deeper into the angel's lap. "Just...hang out here for tonight, can you?"

"Of course, Sam." Long after Sam falls asleep, Castiel is still running his fingers through the soft, sable hair. Sometimes he wishes he could sleep along with Sam. Tonight, he's perfectly happy to sit and watch over the man. He suspects nightmares filled with clown versions of Crowley would be quite unpleasant.


	10. Because of WriteWorld

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was an image looking down at a gorgeous Mediterranean (?) village, through the fog.
> 
> Just a few words...maybe I'll add more one day.

It was breathtaking. Sam held out his arms and let the air sweep over him. It was cold, but he didn’t care.

“It’s amazing, Cas!” He laughed at how small his voice seemed. Small. Something about Sam Winchester was small. Imagine that.

But Castiel was not looking down at the world below. He was staring at his world, held secure in his arms while his wings steadied them. “Yes it is,” he responded quietly.


	11. The Baguette Incident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by an "imagine your OTP" story on Tumblr. Obviously.

Sam closed his eyes. If he had to kick Dean's ass in front of the entire cafeteria, he could do that. But he was trying to rein in his temper. Dad said they got into too many fights as it was. If he found out Sam had clocked Dean at school...Well, he didn't even want to know how that conversation would go. So the fifth time he felt something behind him, he turned as slowly as he could, but let his eyes express unadulterated loathing for Dean's antics. 

It wasn't Dean. 

He choked in his breath. "You-Oh!"

The guy behind him was a junior. He knew, because he spent most of his waking hours thinking of him and learning more about him. And that was the only reason he knew who he was at all. 

There was a chorus of laughter all around him as he stared. 

Castiel Anjel was grinning at him. He was dressed in a Zorro mask and holding a baguette as a sword. "Sam," he said with faux gravity. "I'm told the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. Alternatively, I'm pretty certain it's through the chest. So I'm trying all angles here." 

Sam's mouth fell open. "You..." It was all he had succeeded in saying. 

"Say you'll go to prom with me? Or I'll show up tomorrow in something even more ridiculous. I'm thinking Don Quixote."

He felt a blush and a smile take over his face. "My hero," he whispered. 

All of Castiel's friends began to clap, and one blue eye winked happily.


	12. Botanists and Librarians and Herbs, Oh my!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because @yaelstiel posted a gif of Sam staring at a witchy bit of vegetation...

Castiel is a botanist. So inevitably, he's got some weird plants around the house. But Sam is a library archivist, a "man of letters," if you will, and he's pretty sure he's seen this before someplace...

After two days of research, Sam is sitting in the dining room, waiting for Castiel to come home from work. When he walks in and finds Sam with several of his herbs and satchels lined up on the table, Castiel knows it's over. 

"Hello, Sam," he sighs. 

Sam smiles grimly. "Hey, Cas. So when were you going to tell me I'm sleeping with a witch?" 

Blue eyes close. Castiel knows better than to lie. 

"And more importantly...As Frank L. Baum put it...Are you a good witch, or a bad witch?"

When he looks back in surprise, he finds Sam grinning. He smiles back. Maybe this won't go as badly as he had always feared it would.


	13. Mick's Card

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Lotus, we see that Sam has Mick's card. The last we knew, Castiel had it. But Castiel needed to make it clear to Sam that he didn't want anything to do with the British Man of Letters who seemed to be flirting with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written in response to @fangirlfromtartarus who wrote on Tumblr:  
> "so sometime between 12.02 and now [Lotus], cas gave sam mick’s card.  
> sastiel is canon, fite me"

Castiel had seen Sam’s face. With everything the Men of Letters had done to him, Sam yet looked at this Mick person like he could still break him further. It crushed Castiel to see it. He quickly shut Mick down, as well as he could.

He hoped he had gotten his point across in his tone, if not his words. He was there for Sam. He wanted nothing to do with anyone who had hurt his hunter. He knelt before Sam after, and touched him gently on the temple. He watched the relief wash over the man, the strongest human Castiel had ever known, and smiled at the gratitude in Sam’s eyes. This man had bested Lucifer himself, was a hero of epic proportions…but he always remembered to thank Castiel for his healing touch. 

Then Castiel moved on to heal Dean and their mother, and he nearly forgot about the British Man of Letters entirely. 

It wasn’t until they were lying in the bunker days later, after the excruciating events surrounding the rockstar, that it came up again. Castiel didn’t sleep, of course, so he was simply reflecting upon their recent events when it occurred to him they had never spoken about the interaction. 

“Sam? Are you awake?”

“Yeah, Cas. What’s up?”

He took a small breath. “I was bothered by something, and I wanted to address it.”

“That’s far healthier than we Winchesters are generally comfortable operating,” the man teased. “Dean once told me we’re supposed to hold things in, and vent it in spurts of violence and alcoholism.”

“Dean is not an expert on everything,” Castiel responded dryly.

“Try telling him that.” Sam sat up to listen. “Okay. What’s bothering you?”

He frowned. “Sam, you know there is no other human who could turn my eyes from you. Right?”

“I guess.” 

Castiel reached up to smooth the hair from those sweet, lowered eyes. “I have the number for that British Man of Letters, Mick. I think you should carry it. I don’t particularly want to speak with him again. But you may need to contact him one day.” 

Sam licked his lips and smiled. “Thank you,” he said hoarsely. “Just…thank you.”

“Of course, Sam. May I hold you?”

His hunter melted down into his arms, and sighed with content. “I like that we both fit on this bed.”

Castiel agreed. “We fit perfectly together, Sam.”

“Good night, angel.”

“Good night, Sam.” He felt Sam’s breathing even out, and could sense a feeling of peace from his hunter. It had been a long few weeks. A long few years. And nothing was resolved yet. Lucifer was seeking out a new vessel. He would need to work with Crowley again, he feared. But for now, he just wanted to enjoy a moment with a man who loved him, and appreciated him enough to want him all to himself.


	14. All Comes Tumblring Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mishmash of Sasties from Tumblr OTP Prompts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Sam is taller, Cas is stronger, and they need something heavy from the high shelf.
> 
> 2) It's November, and Cas is still holding on to Halloween while Sam is over-eager to begin Christmas. 
> 
> 3) Sam is the only barista who spells Castiel's name right on his cup.

Dean leaned on the door jam and crossed his arms on his chest. There was probably a good explanation for this, but he didn't even care. It was enough that it was happening and he was there to enjoy it. 

"Cas, stay steady, okay?"

"I'm doing my best."

"Okay, but you're really freaking heavy, and if I fall-"

"You won't fall. Hold still."

"Do you have it?"

"A moment longer."

"Cas, I really feel like we're going to fall."

"Sam, I may not be an angel but I have been perfecting my balance for combat over millennia. If we were going to fall, I'd-"

Dean cringed as Sam's knee buckled under the twisting motion, and the totem of his brothers came crashing to the ground in a heap of long limbs and cursing. He snickered to himself, and stepped forward to help them up. 

Sam brushed himself off sheepishly. "How long have you been watching?"

Dean grinned and took Castiel's arm to steady him. "Since you somehow decided the best way to reach that box was to have Cas kneel on your shoulders."

"He's stronger," Sam sighed. "But not tall enough."

Castiel grumbled, "I would appreciate it if we never spoke of this again."

Sam kissed his chin. 

~~~~~~~~

Dean just sat back to watch the fallout. It was fun, and he didn't have anything better to do while he drank his egg nog and chomped candy corn. 

"Look," Sam was saying. "I want to have a normal Christmas in our home this year. A real one. A damn Christmas! One where we act like a fucking family!"

Castiel was shaking his head. "And that's fine, but I'm truly uncomfortable with all the angels everywhere, and the elf that is meant to be on the shelf stares at me, and I can't figure out how he moves on his own each night. I'm finding it hard to sleep knowing he's out there."

Dean snorted a candy corn, and had to wash it down quickly. 

"Well, I find it difficult to sleep with all your demon and undead crap around! We hunt these things! Why would I want them in the damn bunker?"

"Sam, it's a tradition, and now that I'm human I want to experience-"

"You keep experiencing all that candy, and you're going to make yourself sick!"

Castiel's eyes narrowed. "How is my bowl of orange and black chocolates any different than your green and red? Dean has confirmed they are not, in fact, different flavors!"

Dean popped another piece in his mouth. "He made me do a double-blind taste test."

Sam threw his hands up. 

Castiel considered quietly for a moment, then pointed. "I do enjoy this tradition," he admitted. 

The younger man looked up at the mistletoe and smiled finally. "I do too. And I also like cuddling with you during scary movies."

"Maybe we can find a compromise."

"Maybe we can."

Dean laughed as Castiel stepped back from the kiss and added in a suspicious tone, "The elf is watching us."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You know you're the only one who can spell my name correctly."

Sam looked up from his textbook, peeked out from under his hair, and stared. "What? Oh! Oh, Cas-Hi! It's...It's only seven letters." 

The man was smiling at him. "And yet everyone else struggles with it. One woman just writes Clarence on the cup because she's given up caring that she gets it wrong."

He felt himself blushing hot. He had never exchanged so many words with the hot theology major before. "That's, uh, that's Meg. She's kind of a bitch. Sorry about that."

"It's all right. I just like that you take the time to learn it, since I've been coming in every day this semester." A dark eyebrow raised. "Mainly to see the pre-law kid who studies between making drinks."

Sam tried to think of who else on the staff was pre-law, then realized his Constitutional textbook was sitting right on the counter. "You mean me?"

Castiel laughed a little.


	15. Feathers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On Tumblr, Castiel-knight-of-Hell wondered if Castiel donates feathers for spell components, after seeing Family Feud.

Look, Cas gets anxious sometimes. And when he does, he sheds. A bit. Not a lot. The boys don't mention it. They got pretty worried the first time they saw a handful of feathers fall to the ground when Castiel popped out of a motel room after Dean had flustered him. Sam had given his brother the look-what-you-did face, and Dean had given the idea of genuinely apologizing actual consideration before forgetting all about the incident. Sam hadn't forgotten. The next time they saw the angel, he said that Dean was sorry. 

It was when the angel got embarrassed that it happened, so far as Sam could determine. That day Dean had called him a baby in a trench coat, Sam had managed to collect several feathers for his spell component kit in the trunk. 

Years later, Sam realized suddenly that he had never thought to mention to Castiel that he gathered the lost feathers. After they had sent Gavin back to his time, Sam sat at the table doing research to see how things had shifted in the timeline, and he began to think of the feather he had just used. 

His phone buzzed at him, and he startled. 

"Cas?"

"Sam? Did you need something? I could hear...Are you and Dean all right? Mary? You were..."

Praying. Sam began to flush pink, and he was glad Dean had gone off to wipe down the Impala. 

Cas cleared his throat. "You were calling for me. In something of an informal sort of...Everything is all right?"

If Sam were an angel, this would be the time he would have left feathers behind him. "We're good, man. Just..." He took a deep breath. "Yeah, we're fine. Just come when you can, okay? No-no real reason. Just good to have you around, you know?"

Castiel was quiet for a moment. "Yes, Sam. I miss you too."

Sam smiled, and hung up. The next time he saw the angel, he would talk to him about the feathers. For now, it was probably best if he put thoughts of flustered angels and beautiful feathers aside, to deal with another time.


	16. Draw Me Like the Dude in Bedtime Stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For @denguis who had the lovely, cracky idea that "Balthazar made Cas hatewatch Titanic and it made an impression on him as a kind of instruction manual, much like the pizza man...Sam awkwardly and embarrassedly drawing unbelievably bad erotic stickfigure art of Cas at Cas’s request & Cas would be very forthright about how terrible the art was" and @casquecest who drew exactly that. Check out that blog for some lovely fanart. Also for @somekindofsaviour who always brings my attention to life's little awesomeness.

Sam licked his lips. He was sweating. But he knew staring at the image wasn't going to make it any better. 

"So? Can I see it?"

He sighed and handed it over in defeat. "Look, I told you I can't draw-"

"This is terrible."

Sam's eyes closed. He had counted himself the luckiest human alive for having the opportunity to be Castiel's lover, to see and feel him without the barrier of clothing. But his complete incompetence with a sketch pad and pencil was about the last way he wanted to show Castiel how he felt about him. "Look," he said again, though he didn't have anything else to say. 

"I'm looking," Castiel confirmed. "It's really very horrible."

His face was burning. "Cas, you're art, okay? And it isn't the vessel. It's you. Novak-He was good looking. But it's you. And you're art, and-and I'm not an artist. I can't capture in a drawing how your eyes flash that perfect, impossible blue, and the way your body moves when you fight, like...like you're always an instant away from flight. I can't draw how your grace feels, the way it pulses from you when you're angry or happy, and I can't draw how you make me want you. You're art, man. And I'm no artist."

When Sam finally opened his eyes, Castiel was smiling. He stood on his toes to deliver his verdict, from his lips to the tip of Sam's nose. "Thank you for drawing me, Sam. And thank you for seeing me."

He breathed out his relief. "I'm sorry I suck at drawing. I tried to warn you."

"I don't need to worry about you running off to draw any French girls."

A laugh burst from him. "No. No, you don't. The only naked body I want in my space is yours. And I'd want it even if it looked like that," he said, stabbing at the sketch pad with his finger, "but for the record, it doesn't. Even if I could draw, you are too gorgeous for me to concentrate anyway."

"I would make room on the raft for you, Sam."

He kissed Castiel gently. "Thank you, angel."


	17. Cat in a Convenience Store

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a Tumblr picture of a cat on a store shelf.

When Castiel saw the cat on the shelf, he stopped messing with the eggs, which were terribly weird, and he would never get over how fragile and unsettling they were. The cat was such a peaceful sight. He stood there smiling for a time, and he had no idea how long had passed when he felt Sam's hand on his shoulder. 

"We're going to have to pay for that egg," the hunter sighed. Then a smile softened his voice. "Hey. Who is this?"

"I don't know," the angel admitted. "But he's got a very calming presence. I like him."

Sam laughed quietly. "How much for the cat?" he called over his shoulder in a teasing tone. 

The older woman laughed back. "Free with any purchase or priceless, depending on the day. That's Andrew. He was the only thing worth keeping in the divorce."

Sam laughed again. "Cas, this is Andrew, and he belongs to this lady. Come on. Let him sleep."

"I'm not disturbing him."

"No. But we need to get going. Charlie and Dean are going to think we got lost."

Castiel nodded. But he leaned in to whisper to the cat. "You're just what this world needs more of. Calm contentment."

The feline stretched out onto his back, and yawned. He spared an instant to wink at Castiel before falling asleep again. 

The angel straightened. "We can go. I feel like this will be a very good day."

Sam smiled at the woman behind the counter, and pulled out his wallet. "For the egg and his other items."

She watched after the angel. "He's odd, isn't he?"

"A little," he remarked. "But I like him."

She nodded. "Same as Andrew. I'm odd, but he likes me."

Sam was laughing when he joined Castiel outside. He slipped an arm around the waist of his angel, and led him to the car without a word.


	18. The Bees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saw an image of a necklace, had to write some Sastiel for it.

"Sam?"

The hunter looked up from his research. "Yeah, man. What's up?"

Castiel stepped forward somewhat sheepishly, and held out his closed fist. 

Sam's eyebrow raised in question. Castiel had been a little off-okay, a lot off-since awakening at the discovery of the Leviathan tablet. But Sam didn't mind being gentle with him. He knew what a nightmare Castiel was coming down from. It was Sam's nightmare, after all. "What's this?"

After a tiny hesitation, the curled fingers opened to reveal an offering, a gold chain. 

Sam smiled in surprise. He lifted the chain from Castiel's palm, and saw the golden honeybee pendant hanging from it. "What's this about?" he asked quietly. 

The angel licked at his lips, looked like he was trying to find elusive words. "It's...a bee."

"I see that."

His friend took a deep breath. "It's just that...Since I've awakened, I've been inclined toward them. I always found them fascinating. But now I can't stop wondering about them."

Sam laughed, but not unkindly. "We've noticed."

"They remind me...I used to watch humanity from a point of dissociation. Never interacted unless I was ordered to do so. I loved humans collectively as I was told to, but never loved individuals. Then I met you and your brother, and your many friends. And since I've awakened, I can't help looking at each bee individually. They're a team, and they work so well together, that I think it's easy to forget..."

Sam waited in patience. 

"I admire you, Sam. And I realized today that every bee I see going about his brilliant life, working so hard and bringing so much to so many...Each one is you. You save the world just by being in it. I never understood, till I took your pain, just much you carry on your shoulders. Dean? He's the Righteous Man who-" Castiel smiled fondly. "-who said bite me to the strongest of archangels. He's an amazing man, full of bravado and charm, and I love him dearly. But you, Sam..."

He found that he was holding the chain in his own fist now. "But me?"

"You're the buzzing, beating life force of the entire hive. You're the heart of humanity. And I've come to see you in a new light too. I always liked you, Sam, from moment one. I liked bees when I first encountered them, and they seemed to tolerate me, as you did."

Sam snorted a laugh, and he let his hair fall over his eyes as his face heated. He had done so much more than simply tolerate the angel. He had adored him. They had hurt one another, and they had helped one another heal, and in spite of the more profound bond Dean and Castiel had always shared, Sam felt connected to Castiel in a powerful way. 

"And now I can't help loving you, not just together with your brother, but as an individual. And I love you differently. And I don't know how I didn't see before just how differently you must be loved."

Hazel green eyes blinked twice. 

Castiel smiled that rare crooked smile of his, and shrugged. "I love you, Sam. And I saw this chain, and it made me think of you. I'm sorry if this doesn't make sense, and I understand it isn't something you would actually wear. But perhaps you could just have it, and remember when you see it that I love you."

It didn't make sense, not in the slightest. But at that moment, it meant the world to a lonely, worried hunter. He gripped his prize tightly. "Thank you, Castiel. Really. Thank you. And for what it's worth...I love you."

His friend shook his head, a spark of frustration in that blue gaze, as if Sam had misunderstood. "No, I...I mean I love you, Sam."

A slow smile came over Sam's face. "I mean I love you, Castiel," he insisted. 

Realization lit up Castiel from the inside. "Oh," he said. Then he nodded and seemed entirely flustered. "Well, I'm-and I should-Dean didn't want me to get in the way, and..."

With that broken sentence, Castiel disappeared from the room, leaving Sam holding the declaration of his love, in a golden pendant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @littlealienproducts posted the image used for inspiration

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [BrothersForever and SamsAngel47](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3995488) by [Zetal (Rodinia)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rodinia/pseuds/Zetal)




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